I have let your perception of me define who I am. So I carefully place a mask upon my face so that no one can see the girl underneath. My mask is made up of a little bit of you and a little of the person I meant last week. A little of my mom and a little of my dad. A little of my friend and a little of that stranger I really wanted to like me. I have this ability to pull from my colorful mask any personality I want to fit in with you, to like what you like, to do what you do all the while ceasing myself. I love that mask I wear to hide the me I am fearful to know. There is that day however when the mask thins and transparency occurs. It is as if I am standing necked for the world to see and I have never looked into a mirror to see myself. Those people see me, all of me and I have no where to hide, no mask to put on. I have but only two options. One, I can freeze, become uncomfortable and be ashamed that I could not do a better job of hiding myself, my stories, my past, my present, my likes and dislikes, my options, my longings and discontents. Option 2 is to love the me I see standing there, not completely understanding that me, but accepting her anyways. I can own the story of me, of my life. I not only own the stories, I love and accept them. For when I own my own story, I get to write the ending. I own each aspect of my nakedness, my vulnerability there in front of me with no excuses. Just as I am, I was brought to this life, to be me, no one else, so I am safe to look in the mirror. I am safe to like what I see. I become comfy with my necked truths. If I look in the mirror before my mask is completely transparent. I have the beauty of time to discover my genius that is as unique to me as my finger print. And I can take off my mask before it fades away, at my own time, at my own pace. As I become aware of who I am and love that maskless girl, I no longer try to fit in, I simply belong.